#thread: evan.

[hoecuspocvs]

nostalgia on the rocks, shaken not stirred. 

when: ? tba

time: evening, approx. 8:30 pm

where: nel and zanders wedding reception, god knows where that is

partner: @realismsx​  | evan o’donnell

━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ ┋   𝓐𝓿𝓲𝓪 𝓚𝓷𝓸𝔁.

although a lot had changed throughout the years, there was one trademark quality every uoa alumn could boast about unanimously and that was their remarkable ability to drink, like no time had passed, forever frozen at the age of twenty-one. avia knox was determined to prove as much. ❝ could i get a glass of scotch ? neat. and when i say glass, i do mean a TALL, glass. as tall as they come dear, thank you.  ❞ the frazzeled bridesmaid managed to sputter, flashing a dazzling smile at the waiter taking her order as she slyly slid him a handsome tip (no doubt to encourage a parade of refills throughout the night.) though her role in the ceremony had only lasted around 2 minutes, the frantic beating in her chest showcased the impact her stroll down the aisle held. BLINDSIDED. that was a suitable word for what had happened. they should have expected no less from the conniving (and STUNNING) bride. nel had a way of working her magic until her bidding was done.  ❝ SORRY, i’m being rude. would you like anything ?  ❞ avia turned, awarding her company nothing more than a courteous smile that didn’t seem to mask the nerves flashing in her cerulean hues. even after all that, evan o’donnell still held the power over her body to react involuntarily. 

[hwthorn]

He used to take walks alongside the river all the time as a kid, when the world got too loud and there was no way to shut it up. He’d never strayed too closely to the edge of the bank, always afraid of falling in, but the motion of the current is soothing to look at even now, with chills gripping the air in a tight fist and refusing to let go. The water used to roar, but now it just seems quiet. A comfortable backing track to life rather than the forefront vocals. The sun’s setting and he’s impressed even now with the way the light is reflecting off the surface, like a million tiny little fish scales glimmering at once, save for where frothy whitecaps move at their own pace.

Blackrock has always melded well with the natural world. All of Montana has, he thinks, but some places more than others. There’s something nice about knowing that one day, when the town dies and everyone leaves its borders, the river will still be here, consistent as ever. Just not quite so loud. Shep doesn’t know how long he stands there, watching, hands buried in his pockets, but the sun settles behind the mountains and that’s all she wrote. He starts the trek home, flashlight in hand, fingers turning white from how tight he’s holding it. It’s not a long walk, but it’s not the time to get lost in thought anymore. He focuses on the path he can see in front of him. Walks for a while.

And then, at the edge of the woods where it traces the shape of the river neatly, parallel to the path he’s walking back to town, a shape. Definitely human. Definitely not sasquatch, that’s for sure. He lifts his light up, slowly, so that they aren’t startled, but the wide beam might do it anyways. He doesn’t recognize their face immediately, scours his brain looking for names and comes up short. “Hey! You alright?”

@antagonisms​ !